Kindness is not enough: marriage, sex, and the importance of mutual desire

On Tuesday, I posted a reflection on 9/11 and the small role the events of that day may have played in the end of a marriage.  As sometimes happens, I ended up getting more emails about the post than comments.  One of those emails, from a woman I will identify as "Cyndy", asks a series of questions to which I'd like to respond.

In regards to my most recent ex-wife, I wrote:

It was a kind marriage, characterized by civility and thoughtfulness on my part and on hers. It was also a marriage nearly devoid of excitement, passion, and chemistry. While chemistry fluctuates, it's not as if my third wife and I ever lost it -- we'd never had it to begin with.

Cyndy wrote a long response, most of which I'm printing here:

What, in your opinion, is the excitement, passion, and
chemistry you describe? (I am hoping you will not
respond with the usual, "If you have to ask, then it
isn't it.") Is it the physiological response to which
you are referring? A spiritual response? Is it the
"intense sexual desire"? Something else?

Also, do you truly think excitement, passion, and
chemistry are absolutely critical to a marriage?

I can think of older couples (our parents' generation
and our generation) who, as far as I can tell from
what at least the women have told me, that there was
never the intense sexual desire you mentioned. These
older women (some are Christian, some are not, and
they are not necessarily sexually repressed) tell me
chemistry is deceiving and a poor indicator of the
potential success of a relationship. Most often, these
older women tell me a good man is a man who respects
you, isn't overbearing/controlling, works hard to
provide for his family, will be a good role model and
father to his children, and ideally, comes from a
"good" family (meaning they won't mistreat you, him,
and your children, and there are few/no criminal/shady
elements/influences). (FYI, most of these women work,
too, so they're not saying the man should be the sole
provider or anything.) In fact, these women discourage
younger women like myself from including chemistry,
passion, and excitement as a criteria by which to
judge potential mates.

As far as I can tell, these women and their husbands
continue to live a content life together as a couple
and family. OK, I can't say for sure if they've ever
had a clothes-ripping romp in the bed or not, but day
to day, they seem happy. They laugh together. They cry
together. They take joy in each other, their family.
Sometimes they bicker. They usually make up. They have
the usual ups and downs, like everyone else.

What you are saying would seem to invalidate their
experience. Are you suggesting that they can't
possibly be happy because these women lack that
chemistry, passion, and excitement?

Or possibly, is it something that the man must have,
but is optional for the woman? (I am a woman.)

There's a lot there to unpack, and I want to do my best to answer at least part of what Cyndy is asking.

Cyndy wants to know what I mean by "excitement, passion, chemistry".  It's notoriously difficult to articulate, but I mean a combination of intense and persistent physical attraction with a sense that one's partner arouses both sexual and romantic feelings.  It is physical, it is sexual, it is spiritual, and it is emotional.  Now, I am as aware as any (and probably, based on experience, more aware than most) of how temporary and transitory that initial chemical "rush" of a new relationship can be.  Within a matter of weeks or months, what once was incredibly new and exciting often loses some of its "freshness".

But I want to distinguish between placing a high value on passion and the "pursuit of everlasting novelty" which I have criticized here in the past.  On the one hand, we make a serious mistake if we turn into compulsive, serial monogamists, always looking for the next person to bring us a rush of excitement.  On the other hand, we make an equally serious mistake, in my opinion, when we claim that mutual sexual attraction and fulfillment aren't immensely important components of a successful marriage.  While chemistry may wane and lust may fluctuate, I do believe that in order for a relationship to be successful, there must at the least be an initial period of extraordinary desire.   In times of low desire and little sexual activity, memories of "how it used to be" can serve as a reminder that the two people in a given relationship really did once passionately long for each other.  What one once had and then lost can be found again.  What one never had in the first place is a lot harder to create from scratch.  That's the lesson I got from my last marriage.

(Before you write in with stories of arranged marriages where a couple learns to kindle desire over time, let me say I'm dealing with the realities of marriage in our culture, in our time.  There is very little that is cross-culturally timeless and enduring about marriage, historians always point out.  And comparing marriages of choice and desire to those which are arranged is the ultimate example of weighing the apples against the oranges.)

Cyndy asks if I think if this passion and excitement are critical to a marriage.  Obviously, I'm the last person in the world to be giving advice on what makes a lasting marriage.  Give me a few years with my wife, and I'll have more to say. I do know that for me, passion is non-negotiable.  That doesn't mean I demand sex all the time (thanks for asking), but it does mean that I would never enter into a long-term relationship with someone for whom sexual fulfillment -- within a monogamous context -- was not also a high priority.  Sex is not just about orgasm or reproduction -- it is a uniquely intense expression of intimacy, a joining of bodies in a profoundly intimate way.

I'm a hugger.  I'm a kisser of foreheads and cheeks.  Last night at All Saints, I hugged and kissed three dozen kids and a dozen adults.  I walked up to old friends, put my arms around them, and made my affection for them tangible.  (Mind you, I know who I'm doing this with -- I don't foist my embraces on the unwilling.)  In any event, I'm a physically expressive human being.  But while my hugs and kisses are shared with a very large number of people, sexual intimacy is saved only for my wife.   Sex is more than just boisterous affection or mutual "getting off"; sex in a long-term, monogamous pairing becomes the "you and me" thing that is unique to the two people in that relationship. My wife and I love many people in our lives.  We tell them we love them.  We hug them, kiss them, cry with them, worry about them, think about them.  Of course, we also love, kiss, cry with and think about each other.  But while our hugs and kisses and tears are shared with many, our sexual intimacy is not.  Sex is the "private language" of the relationship, and all the more sacred because it is reserved for just one other person at a time.  If sex isn't present in the marriage, then where is the physical expression of love that is truly unique?

What of those couples of whom Cyndy writes, for whom sexual desire is not a major component at all?  Am I invalidating the worth and goodness of their marriages?  Of course not.  As we say a lot in the blogosphere, YMMV = your mileage may vary.  I've seen "sure things" fail many times, and I've seen what looked doomed survive for years.  I've got no right to judge what it is that others consider vitally important to sustain their love and their mutual commitment.  At the same time, I've learned not to let "the good be the enemy of the best."  That means many things, but in this case I'm arguing that just because two people laugh and cry well together and enjoy each other's company doesn't mean that they couldn't be even happier and more fulfilled if they also had an exciting sexual relationship!   Joy is not a zero-sum game, and emotional fulfillment and sexual excitement aren't mutually exclusive.

As for how this impacts men and women, I don't think a sweeping generalization will work.  Some humans have stronger sex drives than others, and it would be woefully inaccurate to say that men always are hornier than women.  Particularly over time, the evidence suggests that that is not the case.   (And though the stereotype is that among the young, boys have higher libidos, I can think of several young people of both sexes who prove exceptions to that rule.)  Our desire for sex is affected by so many factors: physiology and psychology work together in a strange dance that often leaves us bewildered.  Ask most folks about desire, and they will tell you it sometimes is there when you don't want it -- and won't show up at all when you really wish it would.   For most of us of either sex, our desire is not a light switch to be turned on or off whenever we please.

So in the end, I'm saying that I think several things are essential for a happy marriage.  Trust, shared values, a mutual willingness to grow, compatible if not identical long-term priorities.  But those are also the values of many a long-term platonic friendship!  On top of these other essentials, I'd add physical desire and at least an initial experience of intense romantic devotion.  To me, those are among the sine qua nons of a successful and enduring marriage.

Comments

[Rob]

1. The Rev. Joe Beam agrees with you. As someone who just celebrated his 23rd anniversary of his marriage to his high-school sweetheart, I'd also agree with you. Sex is a very important part of a Christian marriage.

2. (Related, at least in my mind) Do you get grief from parents because of your blog?

[Helen]

One of the few times I disagree with something you've written, Hugo. If you're a sexual person (orientation and/or libido-wise) then yes, I imagine that sex is the difference between a close platonic friendship and a romantic relationship. However, my experience as someone who's asexual (but had a reasonable amount of sex before realising this) is that there's a very big difference between what we call "romance" and sex, and for me it's that romantic energy that makes the difference between a relationship and a friendship.

The way I felt about my last girlfriend was of a dramatically different quality than the way I feel about my friends. I love and value my friends very greatly, but I don't feel giddy or the particular romantic sense of attachment I felt in my relationship with my ex. The only word we really have (that I can think of) to describe that difference is "romance" although it doesn't feel like the best fit. Most people are convinced that asexual relationships are "just" friendships but that couldn't be further from the truth. There are ways to be attached to someone romantically/emotionally/mentally etc. that have nothing to do with certain parts of the body.

[Lynn Gazis-Sax]

older women (some are Christian, some are not, and they are not necessarily sexually repressed) tell me chemistry is deceiving and a poor indicator of the potential success of a relationship.

I think the key, for me, is to distinguish between the power of sexual/romantic attraction in pulling and bonding people together, and the insight it may give. Because it's true, after all, that chemistry doesn't tell you much about whether the other person's going to respect you, whether you have goals in common, and all those other solid things that you may want in a marriage, and in that sense those older women are right. But on the other hand, if you only get to have sex with one person for the whole rest of your life, most people are probably better off making sure that person is someone really attractive to them.

The movie A Beautiful Mind romanticized the marriage between John Nash and his wife, and left some things out: the fact that he had had affairs with men as well as women before marriage, the fact that he already had an illegitimate child, the fact that the couple actually divorced, and only remarried years later. But the book, I think, shows a good example of what chemistry does and doesn't do. It doesn't ensure that you get the marriage you'd hoped for. In Alicia Nash's case, it leads her to a point where her husband is mentally ill, where nearly everything she's seen in him must be gone, and where, in fact, they divorce. But also, years later, after she's first taken him back into her house and then remarried him, when she's interviewed for the book, she's at one point showing the author of the book some photos of the young John Nash and pointing out how gorgeous she thinks his legs are, and the author remarks in the book on how that's part of the bond that held her to him. It's just plain easier to revive a marriage in which you at least once found each other sexy.

[Helen]

Just to add that I realise that asexuals are not the section of the population you're addressing with your post, but I do imagine that everything I've said will also apply to people with low libidos in their romantic relationships.

[Lynn Gazis-Sax]

That said, Helen's right that mileage hugely varies as to how important actual sex is in providing that spark of enthusiasm. I don't think people are obliged to have any level at all of sexiness in their marriages to make them work - it all depends on the two people involved. I mainly get concerned when people who clearly aren't the least bit asexual are encouraged to ignore their sexual attractions in choosing a partner (as can happen in certain religious circles).

[Adam]

A related idea, that has plagued me for some months now, is...
How much of our idea of what a romantic relationship is and should be is shaped by reality and how much is shaped by fiction (i.e. films, television, and books)?
I often fear that what I'm looking for has little to do with what is reasonable to find, and when I ask people for advise, I often find that they echo what I've come to doubt, as if they've never bothered to challenge the modern accepted ideas of romance.
It seems as though, as the children of divorce, the only example of a functional, lasting relationship we have is that of our grandparents. Is it fair to apply the standards by which many of them selected mates to ourselves in the world we now live, or are our grandparent's relationships the reality we choose ignore for the greener pastures that have been demonstrated for us so many times in works of fiction?

[Hugo]

Bingo, Lynn, hence the YMMV remark I made in the post. In Cyndy's note, she talked about being urged by older women to ignore passion and chemistry as criteria in choosing a mate. That's dangerous, particularly for those women for whom sexual fulfillment is important. It unfairly downplays the significance of sex, moving it from a "required" to an "elective" element.

[Anna]

Well said, Hugo. I learnt this lesson the hard way. My first serious relationship was with somebody who I was immensely attracted to in every sense but the sexual. We had a beatiful, deep bond on the emotional, intellectual, moral levels, but while he also found me physically attractive, I could not reciprocate here. I convinced myself for three and a half years that physical attraction was the least important of all, and that while it would be nice to experience the chemistry and passion that poets write about and others seem to talk about, I am perfectly happy without.

Eventually, of course, I met another man who suddenly ignited in me all that sexual energy that I had been unconsciously repressing. I never got together with this person, but I had to tell my boyfriend that while my love for him was unchanged, I could not maintain a relationship with him any longer. That was a very hard day.

This is not to invalidate Helen's experience, merely to agree with you, Hugo, that generally speaking, passion is not the best basis on which to decide to start a relationship, but it is very important to have.

[Arwen]

Count me in the "tried to make a go of it w/o passion and failed" column. I think partners are best suited when they match on that which is important to them - and passion is a such a possibility. My partner of (10! how did time go so fast?) and I had great chemisty, and still do, although of course having kids and community and careers do eat into the time we CAN spend passionately together.
I saw an interesting documentary on "chemistry"; which may, I imagine, equate to sexual interest for some or romantic interest for others. It showed that the higher the difference between six genetic markers, the more likely a person was to be attracted to another person's smell. In other words, having 0 out of 6 matches made it far more likely that you would find another person's pheremones intriguing. The argument, of course, was that this made sense because you become more likely to find biodiverse matches for breeding with, (within the subset of people who you'll find attractive for other reasons relating to culture or interest or worldview, or whatever criteria you choose on). This seemed to be true regardless of the orientation of the participants.

[carlaviii]

As someone coming up on her 10th anniversary, I think that the people who can say of their spouse "S/He's my best friend" have it spot on. Libido can come and go, you can have your disagreements and your makeups, but it's the depth of your friendship that serves as a foundation for it all. Like best friends, you just want to be together and you complement each other, regardless of how good or bad the current circumstances are.

Your talk of sex as a private language is eloquent and lovely, but there are certainly other private languages (built up over years of inside jokes, for example) which are equally valid. And when it comes to libido, I think it's more important for spouses to have similar levels of libido than what that level actually is. (Helen, he and I are just about asexual... just in case you're doubting your chances of a long-term relationship in this lusty world.)

I think Cyndy would be better advised to see what comes after the passion, as other people have said, and not to assume that when the storm passes it's all over.

[Broce]

Hugo, I think you've missed part of Cyndy's point. She is not talking about a relationship which is necessarily absent sex, even good sex.

I had a long term relationship with a man I was never overly sexually attracted to. I never looked at him and thought "Wow, he's hot." But we had an active and extremely satisfying sex life. I also had a relationship with a man who made me weak at the knees just to look at him or hold his hand. He was a lousy lover, and the sex was mediocre. With the guy I had no chemistry with...yes, I missed that very much...and I do think its lack is one of the things upon which our relationship foundered, probably because we both were raised to think bells should go off and doves be released when we were around "The Right One." But a big part of me thinks that long term, a relationship based on mutual respect and affection, and which includes good sex, but does not include "chemistry" might in fact be the most successful kind of relationship. It does not have the highs, but it's also lacking the lows.

[Lynn]

HELP!

I was wondering if someone could respond to me.
I am in need of HOPE right now. I have only been married 1 year and a half (28 year old female) and I am terrified that we are going to be unhappy for the rest of our lives. I married a man who is amazing in so many ways, and I am physically attracted to him. I even think he's "hot" and has a great body. We have fun together, are intellectually stimulating to eachother-----but we just don't have chemistry. I think we may have been more attracted in the beginning, but not long enough to make a lasting impression on me. My husband at the time felt very guilty over being sexual- (but not having sex) and so that died off- and I just shut down sexually...and it has never returned for me. He would be fine if it wasn't for my lack of desire for him. I do not have any lovey feelings pouring out of me; we are more like best friends. I have had chemistry with many other people (I have met a married man recently that I was immediately attracted to and felt crazy chemistry and sexual tension- and I have no idea why) and am terrified that it wont develop for my husband. I don't believe in divorce, but are we to have a lack of desire our whole lives? I feel like he deserves so much more. I feel it is my fault, because I knew I didn't feel the chemistry, but he was attractive and a very solid man. I feel very selfish. Now he is beginning to feel depressed, and I don't know what to do. I am devastated. Does God bless a marriage even though there wasn't initial chemistry? Will he provide it?